Paralyzer
by Muffinsphinx
Summary: School dances change you, in ways you might not want to admit. Roxasxmystery male- I wanna know if anyone will be surprised, because I suck like that.


Roxas hated school dances. They were crowded, overflowing with people he didn't know or didn't like. They reeked of sweat and heartache and alcohol and teenage hormones. The deejays played terrible music, usually the same five popular songs over and over, and the students kept the same mating-dance mentality whether they were hearing This Love or Disturbia or the Chicken Dance.

There really wasn't anything he enjoyed about high school dances, but that didn't keep his friends from dragging him to every homecoming, black-and-white ball, and prom. This one, the Spring Has Sprung Dance, was no exception. Olette had begged him to go as her date (mostly so she wouldn't have to go with Hayner), Hayner had pleaded for him to attend (mostly so he wouldn't have to dance with Olette), and Pence had actually i _bribed/i_ him to come with their gang because, as he said, "Seeing you stand in a corner and mope is totally worth twenty bucks." After Pence threw his classic Gameboy and all its accessories into the deal, Roxas gave in. He rented the suit, he found a tie that didn't make him want to strangle himself with it, he bought the tickets (with even more of Pence's money), and he got the car from his parents for the night.

So. Here he was, sticky and uncomfortable, spiky blond hair straightened as much as was physically possible (which wasn't much), tie knotted neatly around his neck, shirt perfectly ironed, surrounded by girls with their teeny dresses half off and boys with jackets discarded and ties wrapped around their heads. He stood out like Wind Beneath My Wings would stand out (Roxas could verify this because the song had already been played, to the general dismay of the student population). Olette had disappeared into the crowd within five minutes, saying something about seeing "a hot guy over there, you have no idea, I have to find him before someone else does." Roxas shook his head at the memory. It always weirded him out how much Olette changed at these dances. In the real world, she'd never even look at a cute guy, much less chase after him. But here? She was a bigger flirt than Hayner.

Hayner changed at dances, too. In school, he'd flirt with girls. That is to say, he'd try. He'd try and he'd fail miserably and come crawling back to Roxas, whining and crying until he got distracted five minutes later. But at homecomings and other dances, Hayner was a smooth operator. Roxas lost count of how many girls had actually come up to i_him_,/i without him saying a word, and asked him to dance.

Pence, though, he was always the same no matter what the environment was: calm, zen-like, amused at everything around him. Looking around, Roxas spotted his chubby friend sitting at one of the tables, chatting with tiny Vivi. Pence never danced; he never even looked toward the dance floor or acknowledged the music. When Roxas asked him why he paid to attend just so he could ignore everything, he'd smiled and replied, "It's a bit of a social experiment. I like to see how weird people get when they're in a big group like this."

"You got that right," Roxas muttered to himself now, glaring at a rowdy couple who were coming dangerously close to trodding on his toes. "Everyone here is completely insane."

"Are youi _still_ /ipouting?" Olette's exasperated voice, a bit hoarse and a bit breathless, sounded in his ear. He turned toward her, flinching mentally at her severe frown.

"Did you ever find that guy you were looking for?" he hedged, hoping she'd stop giving him the Mom Look. If he thought his question would cheer her up, though, he'd been wrong; her orange-shadowed eyes narrowed even more.

"No, he disappeared," she replied irritably. "But I danced with a few other people. Seifer, Tidus-"

"You danced with i_Seifer?/i_" Roxas interrupted, incredulous. His group hated Seifer's gang. Dancing with the school bully and leader of the Disciplinary Committee? This was simply Not Done.

"Yes, I did, and he was a perfect gentleman. At least he was having a good time," she retorted, poking him in the chest. He pulled back, rubbing at where she'd pushed; manicured nails were i_sharp./i_

"Yeah, well, I just don't do well at these things, okay?" He grimaced. The couple dancing near himi _had_ /istepped on his toes. Apparently his patented Glare of Doom and Despair hadn't worked on them.

She tutted. "That's because you never try to do anything." She glanced around, searching for something. "Aha!" she said, looking victorious and pointing at a miniscule gap between bump-and-grinders. "Let's go!"

"Wha-?" She grabbed his shirt sleeve and dragged him into the gap, pulling at him until they were completely submerged and in the center of the hive-minded mass.

Jostling back and forth, Roxas was a little bit horrified to realize that toes getting stepped on were the least of his problems. He was literally back-to-back with some girl in a "dress" that had probably come out of the shirt section, close enough to feel her boyfriend's fingers on her ass. That was i_too much information,/i_ thank you. Even worse, Olette had already disappeared, swallowed by another quickly-shifting gap.

The song faded out quickly, thank God, and the throng around him slowed and steadied. As he sighed in relief, the deejay yelled out the name of the next song (Roxas didn't catch it; the people around him were yelling too loud), and suddenly the room was plunged into darkness. More excited screams drifted up from around Roxas, and he panicked. He didn't want to be stuck in this amoeba in pure darkness! He could be molested or shanked or raped or robbed or-

His wild imagination was interrupted by a serious hip-bump from somewhere to his left, making him stumble sideways. Losing his balance, he fell; but since there were only seven inches of space between him and the person next to him, he didn't have far to fall.

"Excuse me-" the person's voice protested as Roxas collapsed onto his chest. Of course Roxas shot out his hands to catch his fall, and of course his palms landed on either side of thin, narrow hips. Lovely.

"Sorry 'bout that," he apologized quickly, standing back up and peering as hard as he could so he could see who he was talking to. No dice; still too dark.

"It's… all right," the voice said back. It was a guy's voice, definitely. Oddly quiet for this environment; Roxas had to strain to hear him over everyone else's din. "As long as you weren't intending to grab at me."

"Definitely not," Roxas assured him. "Maybe any other jerk at this stupid event, but not me."

The guy gave a huff of amusement. "Most of the jerks here tend to grab at the girls."

Roxas had to concede his point; it probably wasn't acceptable for dudes to be grinding on each other here. Which, a tiny and bitterly amused part of his brain said, was just one more reason he hated school dances.

"Out of curiosity," the guy said, still almost too quiet to hear, "you sound like you were dragged here, am I correct?"

"Completely against my will," Roxas confirmed, "but I'm getting paid well for it."

More low laughter. The smooth sound of it made Roxas imagine wine pouring into a glass, luxurious and rich, but that was stupid and poetic and crap and he needed to stop thinking that wayi _right now dammit./i _"Girlfriend?"

"Nah, a coupla best friends." He hesitated, debating whether it would be casual or obvious to mention the next bit. Eventually he decided that, since it was completely dark and therefore anonymous, there'd probably be no harm. "No girlfriend for me in sight."

"…Right." Other than that, the guy ignored the statement, which was probably for the best. "My cousin bet me that I wouldn't attend, and I couldn't give him the satisfaction of being right."

"What was the bet?" Roxas asked, shifting closer so he could hear better. Seriously, this guy had no idea how to talk in crowded places.

"Oh, nothing much. A few of my favorite books for one of his guitars." The smirk was audible in his voice. It made it more rough, coarser… and even harder to hear. Roxas had to move even closer.

"Aren't those expensive?"

"Yes, but as I say, he has quite a fe- oh!" The guy cut off abruptly as a boy behind them shoved past, throwing Roxas onto him again. This time, being so close together, Roxas ended up with his arms half wrapped around the guy's shoulders, chests and stomachs pressed together.

"I… sorry," Roxas breathed, gasping from the impact. The guy stiffened at the words drifting coolly over his ear, taking a deep, shuddering breath. They were slow to pull back, somehow, neither of them wrenching backward as might be expected. Roxas felt long hair brushing his cheek as he shifted his head a tiny amount.

"Don't be." The words rushed out of the boy's mouth, almost like he hadn't thought about them before saying them. And sure enough, he twitched like he was about to try to shove them back down his throat.

"Really?" Roxas whispered. They were almost nose to nose now, and still he could only make out vague shapes on the guy's face. Here was a nose, and there were the eyes, but what exactly they looked like remained a mystery.

"I… think so, yes." The blond shivered as he felt breath from the words across his lips. He definitely didn't have any trouble hearing now.

It must've been the darkness that did it, the knowledge that no one would see, no one would know. It must've been the intoxicating idea of being able to get away with anything, right here in the middle of a crowd of people, and never be seen. Whatever the reason, Roxas decided to try something he'd never tried before.

"So I really have no idea how this works," he stumbled out, desperately hoping this wouldn't earn him bodily harm, "but do you wanna dance?"

The guy laughed again, huskily. "Very much so, but I don't know how."

"Me neither." Roxas bit his lip. "But then again, no one else on this dance floor does, either."

"Is that an invitation to do what they're doing?"

"….Kinda?"

"…All right." Thin hands wrapped around Roxas's waist, settling above his hips. Roxas pulled his arms away, resting his hands on the guy's shoulders. They moved awkwardly from one foot to the other for a few moments, both feeling completely foolish. It ruined the mood a little bit, not knowing what the hell you were doing. Then again, wasn't that teenage life in a nutshell?

"This isn't working," Roxas said after a while, a little let down.

"I agree." But instead of pulling away, the guy pulled closer, hands tightening at Roxas' hipbones. "So let's try this instead." Roxas felt something soft on his mouth. Lips. A kiss.

…Okay then.

Roxas had been kissed before- not kissed, but been kissed. Olette kissed him once, before they realized they were too much like siblings for it to be anything but creepy, and that arty girl Namine had kissed him once or twice after their few dates, before Roxas admitted he preferred his own gender. Those kisses were weird, because he knew they were supposed to be pleasant or romantic or _fun_, but he didn't want to return them. This kiss, though. It was as awkward as the others, because neither party was quite sure why they were participating or how it worked; but on the other hand, the other kisses weren't accompanied by torsos pressing together, hands squeezing at his sides, warm breath on his face. Plus, you know, this time he was kissing a male, which was something Roxas usually considered suicidal when surrounded by other high-schoolers; but somehow he got the feeling that they weren't paying attention, that maybe they didn't matter.

It was a New And Improved! kind of feeling.

Roxas ran his hands down from the guy's shoulders to his biceps, rubbing a thumb over the muscles there. It was odd, he thought, kissing someone his height; Namine and Olette were shorter than him, and he'd had to lean down for them to reach his mouth. Not so here. Here, he could concentrate on pressing forward, steadying the kiss, making it longer, more open, more questioning, maybe a bit more answering.

"You know," the guy mumbled breathlessly, pulling back a bit, "I don't usually kiss people right after I meet them, much less at dances."

"Me neither. But I don't exactly regret it."

Hands running down like warm water, sliding around to his stomach, brushing over the buttons on his silk shirt. "No… neither do I."

Roxas cupped the guy's face, feeling soft hair against his palm. "This is the only thing that I've ever enjoyed about a school dance."

That laugh again! Roxas wondered if it would ever stop sending shivers up his spine. "Same here, actually." He pressed forward again, finding Roxas' cheek first in the blinding darkness, then his lips. This time it was faster, more abrupt and angular, both pushing and shifting and gasping for breath. Roxas' mouth slid open, the guy's tongue touching his quickly, an unasked question. This… had definitely never happened with Namine. The tip of his tongue tingled, almost itchy, as it brushed against the guy's lips. A tiny sound, almost a moan but more internalized, swirled between them; Roxas wasn't quite sure who had made it. Those hands- they were running up his chest, tugging at his tie, struggling at the Windsor knot, pulling it loose.

"I…" the guy mumbled again, tilting his head down to press his nose against Roxas' clavicle, "I don't usually do this, either." He kissed Roxas' neck, shifting the shirt's collar out of the way with his cheek and sucking where neck met shoulder. Roxas' knees threatened to give out for a moment, his eyes rolling up and closing.

"Personally," he mumbled, barely able to form a word, "I blame the darkness and the pheramones."

"Exactly," the guy muttered against his skin, mouth tickling as it formed words on Roxas' neck. "A chemical reaction triggered by environmental factors."

"Right. A mating-ah." Roxas gasped as the boy took the blond's earlobe in his mouth and sucked. Roxas' hands ran up and down the guy's sides, digging in automatically. "A mating dance sort of thing."

"Hmph." A huff of laughing breath into Roxas' ear, hot and wet. "Going into biology or psych?"

"A-ah. Both." His fingers pulled the guy's shirt up- it was tucked in neatly, just like his own- and spidered over the warm soft skin beneath, resting just above the waistband of the guy's dress pants.

"Law, for me." His tongue brushed the shell of Roxas' ear. "But I study everything."

"Isn't- isn't this a weird conversation to be having right now?" Roxas stuttered, tucking his fingers in just below the pants now, touching a cotton and elastic waistband of the guy's boxers.

"Most likely, but I'm a bit odd myself, so it's all right." His lips caressed the sensitive skin just in front of Roxas' ear, where his hairline stopped and a sideburn might begin.

"If by odd you mean sexy," Roxas replied, smiling a bit incredulously at himself. Who'd have thought he'd be flirting with someone Hayner-style, much less kissing them? This was crazy. So completely insane, and he didn't know why it was happening, and God, he didn't want it to stop.

"I'm flattered." Fingers running down Roxas' shirt again, playing with the bottom button, undoing it, then putting it back together.

Maybe it really was hormones surrounding them, maybe it was the intoxication of the moment, maybe it was the fact that Roxas was really in need of some cliché teenage sexual release. Whatever the reason, Roxas rolled his hips forward experimentally, pressing against the other. The contact was electrifying, both boys gasping and maybe moaning a little bit, and Roxas was all ready to do it again, maybe push it a little further.

And then the lights came back on, in all their blazing horrifying illuminating glory.

Okay, maybe it was just the disco ball and some roving spotlights. But everything was suddenly visible, which meant that what they were doing was no longer anonymous, no longer safe. Instantly Roxas' hands shot away from the guy's waistline, the lips came away from his face, and the fingers tugged away from his shirt button. He got the feeling that they were both deeply embarrassed, now that they could reevaluate their actions in the bleak fluorescent light.

At the same time, both were regretful that it had ended.

Now, besides the issue of being seen by others, they could see each other. Roxas was mildly shocked to discover he recognized the guy he'd been kissing for the past who-knew-how-long: a guy from his World Lit class, fourth hour. The hair he'd felt under his hand was blue-black, sweeping into the guy's face and covering one eye. Zexion was his name, if Roxas remembered correctly.

"…Roxas, right?" Zexion muttered, flushed. Whoa. Roxas had never seen someone turn that red. His face, ears, his neck, everything was blushing. Then again, Roxas felt like he was having a hot flash, so he was probably in the same state.

"Yeah, that's… that's me." Roxas swallowed with difficulty. "Zexion?"

Zexion nodded, looking away.

Woo, this was awkward.

They stood there for what felt like forever, giving Roxas all the time he needed to panic freely. What they'd done… it wasn't a very Roxas thing to do. Roxas, who'd scoffed at all the starstruck couples at every dance he'd ever attended. Roxas, who staunchly denied any interest in dating someone, much less dirty-dancing with them. Roxas, who'd spent the past fifteen minutes macking on some guy whose identity he hadn't known; who, for those fifteen minutes, hadn't minded being surrounded by horny teenagers, because he'd been one of them.

Someone must have noticed, he thought frantically. Someone must've seen two boys dancing together, kissing. It was taboo in high school, hardly spoken of. Right now there was probably someone who'd seen, telling everyone around them, and sharpening their metaphorical pitchforks.

Gradually, though, he realized nothing around them had changed. The lights only served to prove this point: everyone was still grinding, making out, groping, whatever they had been doing before. Only he and Zexion had stopped, embarrassed, when the lights had returned. They were acting like they'd done something wrong; and they probably had, but it didn't seem to matter to the hormone-crazed masses.

This was the first time he'd ever considered the (probably crazy) idea that the masses were right and he was wrong.

"Hey," he started gingerly, hoping he wouldn't be ignored.

"…Yes?" The boy seemed more formal now, like he'd been at the beginning of their conversation. Roxas registered, amused in a detached way, that the boy's shirt was halfway untucked, his hair disheveled. Roxas himself had one button undone, his collar popped, and his tie resting unknotted on his chest. They both looked, he thought, like they'd been making out. Which they had. Roxas reached out, gently smoothing Zexion's hair back into place. The boy froze, eyes wide with what looked like fear.

"I was just thinking how we fit in better now," he said, smiling wryly.

Zexion looked himself over self-consciously, pulling nervously at his shirt. Then he looked up at Roxas, finally meeting his gaze.

"I… suppose so," he said reluctantly, quieter than ever.

"You know," Roxas continued, hand still on Zexion's face, "I'm fairly sure no one's paying any attention to us right now. They're too busy with their mating dance."

"Perhaps, but how do you- mmph." Speaking was understandably difficult for the dark-haired boy, since Roxas had covered his lips with his own.

It took around five seconds for the boy to absorb what was happening, ten for him to slap Roxas upside the head, and fifteen for him to laugh and pull the blond boy closer.


End file.
